


When Life Hands You Lemons, Make Orange Juice

by wherehopelies



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, I LOVE RANYA BYE, also side briller, anya is an extra ho, because i like the gays, clarkes gaydar sucks, happy early childrens day, side clexa but it's for like one second
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 11:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8100550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherehopelies/pseuds/wherehopelies
Summary: Clarke sets Raven and Anya up with her guy friends for a double date, but the guys are Miller and Bryan and they are as straight as a circle.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](http://bewaretheides315.tumblr.com/post/150090985303/i-cant-actually-remember-ever-reading-something) tumblr post

“I’m getting married.”

So Lexa is, apparently, getting married.

“You’re what?”

“Getting married.”

Anya isn’t sure about that whole marriage thing. It sounds like one of those things people do just because it’s something to do.

“What? To who?”

Lexa thins her lips, a quirk she no doubt picked up from Anya. They’re so alike. And sometimes so different. Like with this love and marriage stuff.

It’s not that Anya doesn’t believe in love, it’s just that it hasn’t happened to her yet.  Sure, she’s been into a few people, but imagine spending every day with one person for the rest of your life. If she finds someone she can spend an evening with without being annoyed or bored to no end, it’ll be a miracle.

“To _Clarke_ , Anya.” Lexa juts her chin forward, the unspoken _obviously_ puncturing the space between them. Like yeah, okay, _obviously_. She knows it’s Clarke. Lexa’s been whipped for three years now, Anya knows who Clarke is.

She just didn’t think Lexa would _marry_ her. She thought independence or whatever was their thing. She and Lexa against the world, take no prisoners, go on adventures, don’t let anything hold them back.

Damn you, Clarke.

“Right.” She clears her throat and pats Lexa on the shoulder in a supportive sisterly gesture. “Well, I’m happy for you. Congratulations.”

Lexa rolls her eyes. “You could try to act more excited.”

Anya smiles genuinely. “I am excited for you. Weddings are okay. Free booze. Fun party.”

“Yes, about that.” Lexa clasps her hands behind her back diplomatically and Anya freezes, suddenly suspicious.

“What?”

“Do you think someone will be accompanying you to the wedding?”

Lexa watches her calmly and Anya narrows her eyes. “Why?”

She takes a secret pleasure in the way Lexa shifts her weight, the silent tell that Anya is intimidating her the slightest amount. “Your past… suitors have left something to be desired.”

Anya scoffs. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“There will be no bar brawls, or drunken bathroom hookups, or mayhem at my wedding, Anya.”

“This is offensive, Lexa, what the hell. What kind of sister do you think I am?”

Lexa’s lips quirk upward in the tiniest of smiles. “I mean no offense.”

“Like hell you don’t.” Anya scowls. “So what, I have to find a good, tame wedding date that Mommy and Daddy approve of?”

Lexa shakes her head. “No, of course not.” Anya pauses, a feeling of relief filling her until Lexa speaks again. “Just one that I approve of.”

“Fucking hell.”

//

Anya tries to find a date that Lexa won’t hate, she really does.

But like she said, if she can get through an evening without wanting to strangle someone, it’s kind of a miracle.

The days until the wedding quickly dwindle until she only has two weeks left and she’s out of options.

She doesn’t know what to do.

She guesses she could go alone, but that sounds like the worst idea in the existence of the entire universe. Going to a wedding when you’re not in love is hell in itself, let alone when you’re by yourself, watching your baby sister cry fucking sappy ass tears as she watches another girl walk down the candle-lined aisle under a canopy of flowers. Like, what kind of gay shit??

Anya is kinda gay but not _that_ gay.

At this point, she’s feeling so helpless she’s resorted to wishing that a date would just fall out of the sky and accompany her to the wedding.

She guesses she’s not that lucky.

God help her.

//

“I had an idea,” Clarke says one week before the wedding while Anya suffers through a dinner with the happy couple.

Anya grunts.

“I set up a double date for you this weekend.”

Anya drops her fork. “You did _what?!_ ”

Clarke grins and nods like this is a good idea. Anya is beyond certain this is _not_ a good idea. “A double date. My friend Raven also needs a date for the wedding, and these two guys I work with seemed into the idea of a double date when I brought it up. They said it sounds fun.”

Anya imagines every atom of oxygen has been sucked from the room because she’s gaping like a fish out of water.

“No.” She manages to say. “The fuck? No.”

“I’m not saying you have to bring them to the wedding,” Clarke says, Lexa nodding beside her. “But maybe if you have a good time then you can.”

She’s shaking her head so much she’s getting dizzy.

“Please?” Clarke pouts and Anya scoffs. She’s not Lexa and she’s not falling for that. “We just want to see you happy.”

“When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.” Lexa smiles at her gently, soft in that way she is, and Anya groans.

“…Fine.”

They both beam at her and she scowls. She’s not doing this for Clarke or even herself. She’s doing it because she’s a damn good sister. Write that down and never fucking forget it.

//

Anya is irritated. Unsurprisingly.

Clarke’s coworkers picked the date venue, a fancy ass restaurant in the city. It’s 9pm and she’s starving. Her outfit consists of an evening dress that she’s totally uncomfortable in and the biggest scowl you’ve ever seen.

Fuck this whole thing.

“Yo, you Anya?” Asks a low feminine voice.

Anya purses her lips and turns around, fully prepared to tell Clarke’s supposed maid-of-honor that she needs better taste in friends.

Yes, she is totally prepared to do that. Definitely. Completely. One hundred percent prepared.

Except that she takes one look at the girl and The Doors starts playing in her head.

_Hello, I love you. Won’t you tell me your name?_

“I’m Raven,” the girl says and Anya doesn’t mean to seem dramatic but her entire life flashes in front of her eyes.

She might be dying.

“Anya,” she says with a nod, and if this was a movie, the audience would probably think she sounds gruff and aloof because she’s cool and collected. In her own head, she’s certain it’s because she has halfway ascended to the fucking afterlife and cannot properly speak.

“So like, fuck Clarke and this shitty idea, right?” Raven mutters and the song in her head switches to something vaguely resembling Smash Mouth. Anya hates Smash Mouth.

But the girl in front of her has her hair in a tight ponytail, leaving her collarbones exposed in her smooth off-white dress, and her eyeliner is dark and pretty. She has a brace on her left leg, and dangly gold earrings, and a perfectly sarcastic smile that makes Anya’s stomach flip three times over.

And after one slightly annoyed and clearly frustrated sentiment to _fuck Clarke and this shitty idea_ , Anya is certain that the girl with the most gorgeous eyes she has ever seen is also smart.

Anya hates to admit it, but she’s suddenly a believer.

(Not a Belieber. Don’t even think of getting it mixed up.)

“I say we ditch this and just tell those married idiots that the guys stood us up.”

Scratch that, Anya thinks. This girl is a genius.

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” she says, but at that moment two younger men walk up to them.

“Hey, are you Raven and Anya?” One of the guys asks.

Raven crosses her arms and quirks an eyebrow. “Who wants to know?”

Both of the guys laugh and the one who spoke first holds out his hand. “I’m Nathan, and this is Bryan.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bryan smiles politely. “Hopefully this place isn’t too fancy for you guys. Nate here just loves it.”

“He’s right, I do.” Nathan smiles at him and gestures toward the restaurant. “Shall we?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Anya murmurs low enough that they can’t hear it, but Raven smirks at her. It causes a feeling of satisfaction to rush up her spine.

They follow the guys into the restaurant and let Nathan confirm the reservation and all that. Anya tries not to stare at Raven and to focus on her real date, but it’s a struggle. At least the guys are well-dressed.

They’re seated at a table in the back of the restaurant, cozy and quiet. It’s very romantic. Anya briefly imagines a scenario in which she ignores her impulse control and defies social etiquette in such a restaurant, but then she remembers that’s why she has to find a suitable wedding date in the first place.

Damn you, Clarke.

She isn’t sure which of the guys is technically supposed to be her date and which is Raven’s, but she’s saved the awkward moment of having to figure out who to sit by when Bryan and Nathan sit next to each other on one side of the booth.

Anya shrugs and slides into the opposite side after Raven.

“So,” Raven says after the waiter sets the menu down. “What’s good here?”

“The fish,” both of the guys say in unison, then share a laugh. Raven and Anya exchange a look, eyebrows raised.

“I got the chicken once,” Bryan murmurs, looking over the wine list. “It wasn’t as good.”

Nathan hums in agreement. “On our first date here, I got the steak.”

Anya blinks. What did he say?

“Your first date?” Raven asks, her menu falling the few inches from her fingers to the tabletop.

“Yep,” Nathan says, and Anya watches as they look at each other lovingly. “That was… two years ago, almost.”

“One year and 10 months next week,” Bryan grins. “So how long have you guys been dating? We were so happy when Clarke suggested this night out. We really don’t have very many opportunities to go out with other gay couples.”

Anya and Raven stare at each other, both of their mouths falling open in unison as it finally becomes apparent that Clarke is a huge fucking idiot.

“Uhhh,” Anya says, preparing to set the record straight and then get the fuck out of here and on with her night.

“You know, would you excuse us for just one moment?” Raven grins at the boys, holding up a finger in their direction. Then she gives Anya a shove out of the booth and leads her to the restroom. It’s a single stall, but Raven ignores that and pulls Anya in behind her, clicking the lock shut behind them.

Anya leans up against the sink. “Well, this is an intriguing change of events,” she says wryly.

“Clarke is so _stupid_ ,” Raven hisses. She pinches her nose. “Alright, so we go back out there…”

“And tell them there’s been a huge mistake and we can leave and never speak of this again?”

Raven scoffs. “Um, no. We go back out there, pretend we’re a perfectly happy couple, eat some delicious food, and tell Clarke the date was a success and to never meddle in our lives again.”

Anya scowls. “And _why_ would we do that?”

“Because I am in this dress and I look hot and you look hot and I did not spend an hour getting ready to just go back home and watch Netflix.”

Anya smirks. “Hot, huh?”

Raven shrugs. “I tell it like it is.”

“Fine,” Anya says, turning around to check her eyeliner in the mirror. “But you’re paying for dinner, _sweetie_.”

“Fine,” Raven says. “ _Babe.”_

The word does things to Anya that she’s not prepared for.

She scowls.

Damn you, Clarke.

//

There’s a lady waiting outside when they emerge from the bathroom together and she gives them a look of distaste.

Just to spite her, Anya grabs Raven’s hand and smiles sweetly at the woman.

She guesses it’s because of their new plan to act like they’re dating, but they don’t let go until they slide back into the booth.

//

“… And then Raven put a scoop of boba on the froyo – ”

“ – Which I stole from the asshole like a badass – ”

“ – Right, while she was wearing the pink tutu – ”

“ – Then I ran out the door and did some serious parkour over the wall outside, which is more difficult when you have a brace might I add –”

“ – And then she hopped into the passenger seat of my car and said DRIVE! –”

“ – Yes and then Anya revved the engine and took off while the man ran after our car –”

“ – And that’s how we met.”

The boys stare at them, eyes wide and mouths open, and Anya holds back the laugh building in her stomach.

“It was super hot,” Raven says, her hand grabbing Anya’s on the tabletop and looking deep into her eyes. Anya knows it’s fake but her brain kind of short circuits.

“Er. Yeah,” she agrees. “The hottest.”

“So.” Raven turns to the men across the table. “How did you guys meet?”

They exchange a look before Nathan shrugs. “Grindr.”

“I see,” Raven nods, turning a beaming smile on Anya. “I never tried online dating. Have you, babe?”

Anya crinkles her nose. “No.”

“Hmm,” Raven hums. “Well guess we never will, then.” She looks across the table while gesturing in Anya’s direction with an overdramatic flourish. “It’s so nice when you finally meet someone who just _gets you_ , don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” the boys say in lovestruck unison, and Anya has to seriously restrain herself from letting out an exaggerated noise of disbelief at the cheese of it all.

But then Raven is squeezing her hand, and Anya’s not sure if she’s reading the vibes right, but for once in her life she’s having fun on a date.

Well. A fake date.

A semi-real date?

A fake date with semi-real feelings?

Fuck.

//

They both order chicken, but the portions are the tiniest thing she’s ever seen and Raven won’t stop stealing bites of _her_ food.

What kind of annoying, irritating, totally beautiful, infuriating, smart-ass girl is she on a fake date with?

//

To get back at her, she plays with Raven’s fingers under the table so she has to cut her chicken one-handed.

//

It’s becoming clear to Anya that there are only two people on this double date that are the mature and sensible kind of people Clarke and Lexa want at their wedding and neither of them are the two people actually invited.

//

There comes a moment after dinner when Anya realizes they’ve stopped paying attention to the boys. Raven is telling her about a project she’s working on for NASA (Anya was right, this girl is a genius), and they haven’t exchanged a word with the other two people sitting with them in at least ten minutes. She’s still playing with Raven’s fingers under the table while Raven’s other hand gestures about in between them as she goes into detail about the project. Anya can’t really understand what it is, but she desperately wants to.

When the check comes, Raven passes her credit card over with ease, even if Anya was just kidding about paying for dinner.

“It’s cool,” Raven says with a confident smile. “I got it.”

And Anya feels caught up in a wave of unexpected softness.

She wants to be clear that she isn’t a sap. She isn’t, okay? But somehow in the past two hours, Raven Reyes shattered every vision that Anya had for herself and for her future. Not to be dramatic again, but her life spanned out in front of her and she saw a previously untapped potential for something great. Like a world of possibilities existed behind a locked door and Raven held just the right key to open it.

Alright, she admits as they walk out of the restaurant, still hand-in-hand, Anya enamored with Raven’s laugh as she teases the boys. Maybe she _is_ a sap.

Fucking sue her.

//

“Well,” Raven says as Bryan and Nathan walk away from them, the date officially over. “Mission accomplished.”

“Right.” Anya frowns. “If by accomplished you mean, still gonna have Lexa on my back, then yeah, accomplished.” Raven raises an eyebrow at that and gives a tug on Anya’s hand, pulling her down the sidewalk. “Where are we going?”

Raven points across the street. “Dunkin’ Donuts.”

“We just ate dinner,” Anya murmurs in confusion, but she allows Raven to push the crosswalk button and wait for it to turn green.

“Yeah, but those portions were like, portions for ants. And I’m still hungry.” Raven squeezes Anya’s hand and shoots her a cocky grin. “Anyway, like I said. We’re already out and looking hot in these dresses, and I think you’re pretty fine, and we’re going on a date.”

Anya stills. “Me and you?”

“Obviously,” Raven says. The crosswalk signal turns to the walking-man and Raven gives her hand another tug. Anya follows along easily, her heart beating erratically behind her ribcage.

“Okay then.”

Raven pauses just outside the door to the donut shop, turning to face Anya head-on and meeting her eyes. Anya fleetingly thinks Raven probably holds the entire world in the ring of her irises.

(She’s gonna just embrace the sap thing. If you can’t beat ‘em, fucking join ‘em and _do it better_.)

“Yeah,” Raven says, searching Anya’s face. “If you want to? Maybe I was reading the signs wrong.” She holds up their clasped hands and Anya shakes her head quickly.

“You weren’t.” Raven’s smile could probably bring her back from the dead. Anya smiles back, then opens the door of the store for Raven. “After you, then.”

She listens as Raven orders what seems like one of everything, feeling like it’s all a little surreal, the two of them holding hands in a small Dunkin’ Donuts at midnight, both of them in nice dresses, and on a date.

They just met, but Anya feels like whatever is seeping into her chest at a quick and efficient rate is something that she’s never felt before.

Whatever it is, she can’t say she hates it.

//

They take their donuts to-go, and Anya doesn’t know where Raven plans to lead them, but she doesn’t really care.

They walk past a twenty-four hour convenience store/gift shop, and Raven immediately grins and yanks them inside.

“You need some Midol or something?” Anya laughs when Raven pinches her. “Ow.”

“We’re playing a game.”

“Are we?”

Raven nods and points to the gift shop section of the store. “We’re going to buy each other something. The weirder the better.”

Anya hums. “And here I thought you were on a date with me for my personality.”

“Ha.” Raven releases Anya’s hand and navigates down an aisle until Anya can’t see her anymore. Her disembodied voice comes from behind a row of shot glasses. “Says the girl who only stayed because I agreed to buy her dinner.”

Anya just shakes her head with a grin and goes in the opposite direction, exploring the aisles upon aisles of souvenirs, from Washington DC magnets to mugs to really weird books to a GuessWho game with all the presidents as characters.

She stops near the clothing, deciding she could get Raven a shirt with Obama’s face on it or something, but a hoodie catches her eye. Then she’s thinking of the chilly night air and Raven’s bare arms and whatever plans she has in store are likely going into the early morning now that it’s nearing 1am.

It’s just touristy enough that it’s still weird, so she pulls a large hoodie off the shelf where it’s neatly folded and pays for it before meeting Raven outside the shop.

“Your date collateral,” she quips, and deposits the bag in Raven’s arms. Raven hands her the donuts and the bag of stuff she bought. Anya waits while she pulls out the red hoodie and holds it up for examination.

“George Washington.” Raven tugs the hoodie over her head.

“A good look for you.” Anya nods and pulls back, pretending to deliberate on the hoodie. She takes in the ‘I <3 Washington DC’ printed across the chest, the heart replaced by George Washington’s head. The sleeves are several inches too long and the hoodie is baggy over Raven’s dress, the hem of which peeks out from the bottom of the hoodie. Raven leaves the hood over her head and cinches the strings so it’s tight around her face. Anya laughs. “Very fashionable.”

Raven loosens the hood and flips it down with a grin. “I’m wearing this to work next week.”

“You’re the perfect native tourist.” Anya opens her bag and pulls out a box. “Wow. A Hillary Clinton bobble head. Just what I wanted.”

Raven hums in agreement. “It was that or the Donald Trump face mask.”

“So thoughtful.”

“But wait there’s more.” Raven nods at the bag and Anya fishes her hand in, pulling out a postcard. The front is a picture of the Washington Monument. She flips it over, grimacing at what Raven wrote on the back.

“ _This night has been monumental?_ Great, you’re one of those pun enthusiasts.” Anya rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “ _Our first date, Oct 3 rd_. Who said we’d have a second?”

Raven grins. “We’re on our second right now. Two dates in the same night because we’re overachievers.” Raven starts walking the direction they had originally been going before stopping at the store. “And because you think I’m awesome.”

“And so down-to-earth,” Anya says, putting the bobble head and postcard back in the bag.

“You love it!” Raven calls, already several steps down the sidewalk.

Anya wants to deny it, but when she catches up to Raven and feels the urge to immediately grab her hand again, she guesses there’s nothing really to deny.

//

They catch one of the last trains of the night going to the Mall. Anya can guess they’re probably headed to one of the monuments, but doesn’t ask which, just watches as Raven eats a donut and talks about her plans for Clarke’s bachelorette party.

Eventually they get off the train and start walking along the Mall. It quickly becomes clear where they’re going and it’s not long before they’re at the base of the Lincoln Memorial. A midnight-tour group is just finishing their tour and are scattered up and down the stairs, making their way down and back to their bus slowly.

Raven shifts her weight and adjusts the brace on her leg before starting the long trek up the stairs. Anya quickly follows.

“I always like them better at night,” Raven says as they reach the top, both of them slightly out of breath. She leans her back against a column, looking at the giant statue of Lincoln in the center of the room, lit up and towering over them. “How tall do you think he is?”

“Nineteen feet,” Anya replies easily, her lips pulling up in a grin when Raven whips her head around to look at her. “Well, he was six-four in real life. But that statue is nineteen feet.”

“And you know this because…”

Anya shrugs. “I work at the Smithsonian. And I like history. I doubled in History and Classics in college.”

Raven’s lopsided grin twists something in Anya’s stomach, pleasant and strange. “So you’re a nerd.”

“You work at NASA,” Anya deadpans.

“I send shit to space! That’s like, cool-nerd status. You’re just a straight up nerd.” Raven shakes her head. “What else do you know, nerd?”

Anya crosses her arms. “Why don’t you go down and ask that tour guide, huh? He’s paid to do this.”

“Who said I wasn’t going to pay?” Raven smirks, her fingers grabbing at the bottom of Anya’s jacket and tugging her a step closer.

“Wow, so now I’m just a knowledge prostitute.” She leans away, laughing when the grip on her jacket tightens, preventing her from getting farther. “This could be considered illegal in all fifty states, DC, and US territories.”

Raven tilts her head to the side. “Which territories?”

“Guam, Puerto Rico, and the Virgin Islands, to name a few.” Anya quirks an eyebrow as Raven’s smile grows to shit-eating level. “Fine, what do you want to know?”

“Be my tour guide.”

Anya scoffs. “I’m not properly dressed.”

“Anya.”

And maybe it’s the night air, or maybe it’s the low light of the memorial around them affecting her judgment, but the soft way Raven says her name makes chills run up her arms.

“Fine,” she sighs in reluctance, but it’s not often she gets to impress with useless facts, so she’s kind of into it. “The Doric column you’re leaning against is one of thirty-six around the memorial, each representing a state under U.S. control when Lincoln died, which was in 1865. On the side there,” Anya jerks her finger behind her, “is the entirety of the Gettysburg Address from 1863.” She pauses, taking a deep breath. “Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal – ”

“Nuh uh, you do not know the whole thing.” Raven looks over at the wall as Anya continues.

“Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives – ”

Raven puts her hand over Anya’s mouth. “Okay, I get it, you’re a supreme nerd.”

Anya raises her eyebrows as Raven pulls her hand away. “I thought you wanted a proper tour.”

“I just wanted a proper guide, not a forty-five minute education.” Raven scrunches her nose.

“Do you always get what you want?”

Raven smirks. “Usually.”

If Anya’s heart wasn’t beating so hard in her ears, she might’ve heard Raven’s exhale of surprise as she leans in.

Instead she just feels it on her lips, soft and sure, the way the sun rises over the horizon each morning.

//

When Anya was in college, her Classics major required her to study Latin and Greek. When she was just beginning, she came across a few translations where her professor would try to explain the meaning, but would end up saying “it doesn’t really make sense in English.”

Anya didn’t really get that.

Words are words, and even if it takes more words to explain something in one language than in another, there still should be a translation. How could it not make sense?

But she eventually learned that sometimes meanings hold different connotations, and even when you could translate the words, sometimes the meaning didn’t always shine through. The first time she understood something better in Latin than she did in English was like the flicking of a switch, the unlocking of a door.

It felt like recalling every important date she’d ever learned, like _feeling_ the meaning behind the language as more than just words put together in a specific order.

Kissing Raven felt like all that and more, like the light switch turned on the sun and the unlocked door opened up to an entire universe she never could have imagined.

Kissing Raven felt like the satisfying click of something sliding into place.

//

She doesn’t think it now, but in the future, when she tries to remember the exact moment she started to fall in love, she’ll remember Raven in a silly red hoodie pulled over a fancy dress, leaning up against a steady column and smiling into a kiss sweet enough to make Anya feel twenty feet tall.

Take that Abe Lincoln.

//

The night leads to them sitting on the steps of the Memorial, Raven between Anya’s legs and pointing up at the stars. They talk about science and history, mythology and astronomy, their friends and their jobs and everything in between.

At some point, they stop talking and just breathe into the silence. Raven dozes in the crook of Anya’s neck, and Anya watches as the sky starts to lighten and the stars begin to disappear.

Eventually, Raven slowly blinks awake, sinking further back into Anya, and together they watch as the sun rises higher than the Washington Monument and turns the city a fiery gold.

//

Clarke texts them about meeting for breakfast to discuss how their double date went, and they both laugh as they imagine how that conversation will go.

Raven climbs on Anya’s back as they make their back to the metro, teasing Anya every few steps about something or other until Anya threatens to drop her. Then she nuzzles her nose behind Anya’s ear until she can’t keep quiet anymore and the cycle starts again.

By the time they make it back into Virginia for breakfast, Anya’s practically falling asleep on her feet, and Raven leads her into the restaurant where Clarke and Lexa are already seated at a table.

They both raise their eyebrows when Raven and Anya arrive. They’re still in their clothes from the night before and they drag their exhausted bodies into the booth across from the couple. Anya immediately demands coffee.

“Both of you killing the walk of fame?” Clarke asks when they settle in. “I take it the dates went well then?”

Raven smirks, and they both nod their head in affirmation.

“Mhmm,” Anya hums happily. They have no idea.

Raven grabs her hand under the table and opens her mouth to tell Clarke _exactly_ how their dates went. Anya just smiles.

When Lexa told her to find a suitable date for her wedding, Anya’s pretty sure she didn’t mean her fiancé’s best friend.

But sometimes when life hands you lemons, you say fuck it and make orange juice.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu @ emilyjunklegacy.tumblr.com. i fuckin love ranya and i'm emo


End file.
